Tuesday, 15 January 2013

The good feeling about this year is quickly
fading. Remember the obstacles I mentioned in my last post? Yes, they are making
their presence felt.

I’ve said this before and I can’t say it
enough—being a single, professional girl living in Mumbai is anything but fun
and easy. I’m not discounting the fun bit, but it is hard. For some reason,
because you come from outside the city and you’re not married, people judge
you. People who you think are probably not so judgemental, judge you and how.
Of course, I am also blindly following stereotypes by believing that certain
communities are not judgemental, but now I know better.

If you are a single person from outside
Bombay, living on rent, beware—you must not have friends or a social life. You
must also have a job wherein you can be back home by 6pm (which means please
get out of office by 5-5:30pm, given the duration of travel in this city), and
once home, please stay put and do not exit the building. God forbid you have
friends over for dinner, it will be instantly assumed that you are drinking,
taking drugs, having loud, wild, trippy rave-like parties, even though,
miraculously, you cannot be heard. But considering that your neighbours have
their ears peeled to your wall, you are in trouble.

It doesn’t matter if you come from good,
decent, well-to-do, cultured families in a different part of the country. Once
you come to Bombay as a single person, you become a whore, someone brought up
in a jhopar-patti, someone with no values, and someone who leads a life of no
purpose or direction. You are a tenant and an outsider, so you are a nobody
with no rights. Make no mistake that just because you are paying rent and a
deposit, and not living in a hostel or paying guest accommodation, that you
have the same rights as your neighbours, who ‘own’ their apartments, and hence
the building, society and all moral judgment. You are not like any other
citizen in this democratic (this word is as always, used fast and loose)—you have
no rights. I have been told this point blank – no joke.

People sometimes amaze me. I am blessed
with a family who has always *always* been supportive of all my decisions and
actions. As a result of which, I have *never* had to lie to my folks. When I
started dating, I would bring the boyfriends home; when I started smoking, I
would smoke in my own house and though it wasn’t discussed openly till
recently, I never had to lie. When I turned 18, my dad took me for a drink; any
other *personal* situations could always be discussed with my mom (and I mean,
anything). My sister of course, has always been and continues to be my best
friend, my rock-solid pillar of support and the one who will fight the world to
protect me. My family always told me, tell us the truth rather than lie and do
things behind our backs. And I did, to the point where today, I am the worst
liar on the surface of this planet.

So understandably, if I am not lying to my
own family, I find it wrong and painful to have to lie to other people’s
families, to landlords and to neighbours. I’m not a drunk, I’m not a slut and I’m
not a bum. I’m an independent adult, earning my own living, leading my own
life. The values in me have been inculcated by my grandfather, so I know I
cannot be wrong on that front.

So how then, do people, on the pretence of
society, values and ethics, become better than me by poking their noses into
other people’s business; by making the lives of others hell; by bitching to
some people about certain others, etc.? How is it that just because they have monthly
EMIs on their heads, rather than a monthly rent, like me, they become more
cultured, valued and powerful? I have my own house in my home city too; that
doesn’t mean that I’m better than my neighbours who are tenants.

It is because of people like this that
rapes are condoned in this country. If a girl has boys over at her place, she
becomes a whore and then if she is raped, even if it’s outside her home, she
was asking for it. I won’t be unfair; it’s not like all the landlords I’ve
dealt with in my last eight years in this city has been so—but you’d be
surprised at what people can be like. At least I am.

The only good thing is that because I’m a
tenant, I’m not rooted to one place. I don’t have to deal with troublesome, small-minded
neighbours, and spineless, stereotypical landlords—I can walk away as I please.
So, I guess it’s time to walk.

Monday, 14 January 2013

I met a man a few months ago. He saw me and
immediately knew what was wrong. I cried before him and was not embarrassed. He
suggested I wear a ring—a yellow sapphire. It’s pretty, though not as pretty as
I’d like, and my friends don’t think it’s pretty at all. But I don’t mind it.
He told me I am a creative person and I’ve made the right decision. He told me to
write my book and that someday he would read it. He told me my heart was broken
and would be so, but then he saw my tears, and knew they were true, so told me
not to give up hope. He told me that I would face many obstacles in life; that
my path was not easy—but that I had to fight it out. He told me to take a leaf
out of his book. He hasn’t walked in years, in decades. He told me that if he
could overcome the obstacles, there’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to. I
promised that I’d try.

Today, my tears have dried and my heart has
mended. I’m still wearing the ring, I’m still writing my book and I’m still in
love. But he is no longer here. The man I met a few months ago, who inspired me
more than anyone has in a while, is gone for good. Much before his time. He was
a special man, he should have stayed.

I feel strange. I met this man only once. A
man who deeply cares about me took me to this man, to help me find direction.
And when I met this man, I wanted to believe everything he told me, even though
I normally don’t—believe or wear rings. But I believed and accepted the hope he
gave me. And yet, now he’s gone.

I’m telling my friends that this man is
gone, and they ask me, were you close? No, we weren’t. Did you spend a lot of
time with him? No, I didn’t. So why are you so upset? What are your tears for?
I don’t know. I feel sad; I feel a void I didn’t think I could.

Do you have to know a person for decades to
feel his/her loss? Do you have to spend a lot of time with him to miss his
presence in this world? I don’t know. Perhaps. Then why do I feel so? Why do I
feel uncomfortable in my gut? Why do I feel the bile of fear rising in my
throat? Why am I scared that what he said may come true, and my heart will
break again? That I’ll be unable to overcome the obstacles? Why can I not speak
my heart openly to the one person I can otherwise tell everything? Why do I
suddenly feel like I’m fighting a losing battle?

I met this man a few months ago, and today
the man is gone for good. I didn’t know him too well and yet I mourn. Why do I
feel so? I feel... I feel like running back home.

Wednesday, 9 January 2013

Ten days into the New Year and no blog
post?! Chee chee. Well that’s what happens when you have a job and all. Sigh.

But I gotta good good feeling about this
year. Once I get used to writing 2013, all will be well. Maybe because unlike
others, 13 has always been lucky for me. Or perhaps because 2013 adds up to 6,
an even number. Either way, win-win!

The New Year started with a bang, with me
hosting one of the most fun parties in a while. I was surrounded with the
people I love, the people they love and the people those people love too. In
short, I knew very few of the guests before that night and yet had a complete
blast! And this was after I spent a wonderful Christmas with my bestie and her
family in Goa, with her mom feeding us silly, and me picking up a few Goan
recipes (perhaps to impress a certain other mother *wink wink*).

This blast-ful New Year’s Eve was followed
up by a loud and crazy visit from my ACJ friends. Ten girls in one apartment—need
I say more? But in short, they all loved Bombay, something that us Bombay folk,
felt strangely proud of. Yes, I am now of the Bombay folk. I’m not sure whether
that’s a good thing or bad.

And soon, once I can swim out of the sea of
work I’m drowning in long enough to escape, I go home! Yes, mere yaar ki shaadi is almost here!
Super excited about seeing my fams, eating home food, and doing lots of work at
this wedding (yes, I am the Best Woman, as it were, and I have been warned that
I may lose a few kilos during those days). The first one of my school gang is
going down and this is big! The best part—he’s so happy and so in love that it
almost restores my faith in humanity, soulmates, the universe etc. More on this
special union (yes, I’m cheesy) once I’m back.

I have decided that this year is going to
be the year of reckoning for me. I like the way that sounds so it may or may
not be true. But I have decided, or rather
redecided, since I’ve decided this again, that this year I’m going to make
things happen. I’m going try and fix things that are not right in my life,
including friendships, relationships, my finances, my goals, etc. And, in case
I see that anything is beyond repair, I will let that go with grace (that is,
as much grace I can muster). I know how hard that is for me to do, but I’m
going to do it. Since I’m usually an emo mess, the friendship/relationship bit
may be the focal point. If it’s a long-standing friendship, I will fight tooth
and nail to save it. If the person truly doesn’t want me in his/her life
anymore, I will let him/her go—no hard feelings. If I’m meant to be with
certain someone, I will make it work. If not, then maybe it is truly time to
let go and move on. But I will be positive, and I will try and make those things
that I want, happen. SPARTA.

Choices or destiny—it’s a little bit of
both. My destiny depends on the choices I make, and the choices I make depend
on the direction destiny has taken me. But I refuse to blame this year for
anything. I can feel it in my bones that it’s gonna be a good one. And I’m also
trying to convince people around me of the same—I’ve become quite the champion
for this year!

I truly hope and wish this year is better
for everyone, whether I know you or not, because God knows we need one. But
work a little harder, love a little more, smile a little wider and hug a little
tighter—just try it and see. It might not work, but then again, it just might
and you might just end up having the best year of your life.